Their First Fall_Trucker and Keeka's story

by Mj Fields

  When I am two steps from the table, I get hit by a Mack truck … er.

  Behind the bar, my nerves are a mess. The man named Trucker, the birthday boy, is SU’s starting quarterback and the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and I have seen lots of men. All but him have given me a creepy vibe. Most seem to want sex, but they don’t come out and say it. Others use lines like those tossed around all night. But when he mentioned my little boobs and asked questions others would have gotten slugged for, he did it in a way that made butterflies dance in my belly. Most importantly, he didn’t give off a creeper vibe that made me believe there were bad intentions behind those baby blues.

  He’s tall—a good foot taller than I am—and I’m sure he weighs twice as much as I do. His body is lean, and his clothes seem to wear him, not the other way around.

  But something I wasn’t expecting was a scent—soap and man—that makes me nearly dizzy.

  He’s twenty feet away from me now, sitting at a high-top table and surrounded by his friends and teammates, drinking water while everyone else continues to do shots, and he hasn’t stopped looking at me. How do I know this? I can’t stop looking at him either.

  “Keeka,” Lou yells, and I look over at him. He points to the tray on the end of the bar. “Tray to the table. Try not to wear this one.”

  I look to where he’s pointing and meet Trucker’s eyes again.

  “Got it,” I yell back to Lou.

  When I get to the table, Trucker pushes the guy standing next to him to the side. “Set it here, Little Ray.”

  When the guy looks back, I realize it’s the redhead from earlier.

  “Little Ray, did you change your mind?”

  “Still Finnish,” I reply, setting the tray down.

  He turns fully and steps toward me. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Let’s not,” I say as I sidestep him and take the fresh round of drinks off the tray before I start putting the empties littering the table onto it.

  “If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” Red asks.

  “I assume you play football, big boy, but are you familiar with what strike three means?” I ask, still piling glasses on the tray.

  “That was only two, babe. The third is the out,” he slurs.

  “Just trying to save your ego another hitless swing.”

  Everyone laughs as I pull the tray off the table.

  “You won’t get a chance again, beer wench. I only slum it once a semester. So again—”

  When he stops talking, I watch his eyes move up. He’s looking at someone behind me, and he looks intimidated.

  I turn my head and look over my shoulder, finding Trucker glaring at him.

  “Just fucking around, man.” Red holds his hands up in defeat.

  “I ever hear you talk to her like that again, you’ll wish you hadn’t, sophomore.”

  “I can handle myself, your honor,” I tell him, but something inside me likes that he’s standing up for me.

  He doesn’t look at me. He continues glaring at the redhead.

  I take the opportunity to walk away as quickly as possible, worried that I will just stand there and ogle him, like all the other females in this place reeking of desperation. I’m not like them.

  Back behind the bar, I focus my attention, meaning I try my best not to look at him.

  When the DJ is done for the night and the females turned from desperate to despondent begin to trickle out, Lou nudges me.

  I look up at him.

  “You dropped a hundred dollars’ worth of drinks tonight.”

  I didn’t drop them; his honor ran into me, is what I want to say, but I don’t. I appreciate that Lou not only gave me a job but agreed to let me clean up the old apartment above the bar, one he said wasn’t fit for me to live in. What he doesn’t know is that it is better than the places I had been staying at, and safer.

  I respect him. The Lou I once knew, and the Lou who stands beside me now.

  I nod. “I think I made enough tonight to cover it.”

  I start to reach into my pocket, but he stops me. “Do me a favor, and I’ll let it go.” He holds up a set of keys. “You drive those knuckleheads home, they’ll get you a cab back.”

  Shit.

  I don’t have a license, but I can’t tell him that. He’s seen the fake.

  I have driven before, the three times Shakeeka made me try to get my license. The three times I failed. I swore I would never try again, and I haven’t.

  Instead of telling him the truth, I nod, causing a rare smile to form before the keys are dropped into my hand.

  Moments later, I hear them laugh when I stand in front of the huge black truck, trying to keep my jaw from hitting the pavement.

  “You got a booster seat in that thing, Links?” One of them laughs.

  “I have a lap,” the guy they call Links says.

  When I glare back at him, I see Trucker doing the same. I hate that I like it.

  “So, you and I aren’t on tonight?” A blonde with huge boobs pouts.

  Links nods. “So long as you remember the rules.”

  “We all know the rules,” another blonde says as she walks up and leans against Trucker.

  “Does she know the rules?” Links asks Trucker as he points at me.

  “She doesn’t need to know the rules,” I answer for myself.

  A look of surprise mixed with conceitedness crosses his face.

  “She thinks she’s special,” the blonde who’s now pushing her tits against Trucker huffs.

  “I don’t think I’m special,” I say under my breath as I hit the unlock on the key fob. “I’m just not interested.”

  I hear laughter from both males and females behind me as I open the door and climb in.

  “Let’s go.”

  As I put the key in the ignition and start the engine, music blasts through the speakers. I reach up and turn it down.

  The guy Trucker called Links starts to get in the passenger seat, but then he stops and turns to Trucker, who whispers something in his ear.

  “You want me to ride bitch in my own truck?” His eyes widen.

  Trucker whispers something in his ear again, and then Links shakes his head and steps back.

  When Trucker gets in, he looks at me, making me a little—no, a lot—uncomfortable.

  His eyes, I feel them on me as if they are physically touching me.

  When I glance over at him, I hope that this time, without the distance between us, like in the bar, he finds whatever it is he’s looking for and looks away.

  He doesn’t.

  I do.

  “Is everyone here who needs to be?” I ask, watching in the rearview as masses of bodies pile into the back of the truck.

  “You’ll be fine, Ray. Cops wont bug you,” Trucker tells me.

  I look at him quickly, and he shrugs. Then he unrolls his window and yells to the people in the back, “You know the drill. Stay down.”

  When I look in the rearview, I see them all disappear.

  He hits some buttons on the dash and a map pops up. “It’ll tell you how to get us home.”

  I nod, put my foot on the brake, and shift the truck into drive. When I hit the gas, the truck lunges forward and the tires squeal.

  “Shit,” I mumble.

  “Easy, Keeks,” Links says from the back. “She’s got balls.”

  “She?” My voice quivers a bit, and I clear it. “Who is she?”

  “Black Betty,” the blonde trying to climb on his lap says with a laugh. “His truck.”

  As we approach the first light, Trucker whispers, “Brakes are solid. Just go easy on them.”

  I do.

  Each stop, each start, he whispers instructions, making me less anxious about driving this beast of a truck, but more anxious about the man instructing me.

  After several smooth stops and starts, he says, “You got this.”

  And I do.

  Listening to the navigation system and the lo
ud moans of the girl on Link’s lap, I come to a stop and glance in the mirror.

  “Shit.” There’s a cop behind me, and I really, really don’t want to mess up.

  “Relax, Ray. You haven’t been drinking. You’re all good.”

  When the light turns green, I am more cautious about accelerating than before.

  When I see red lights behind me, I gasp.

  “You’ll be fine, just—”

  “No, I won’t be,” I snap at him.

  “Ray, you have to pull over, or you’ll surely be in deep shit.”

  I ease the truck over to the side of the road, my heart in my throat, hands shaking, and sweating because I am in so much trouble.

  “He’s gonna want your license,” Trucker says, opening the console between us and pulling out the registration and insurance card.

  “I don’t have my license,” I tell him.

  “Well, that’s gonna be a problem, Miss.”

  I jerk my head left and am nearly blinded by a flashlight.

  I cover my eyes. “Do you mind?”

  “Jesus, Ray.” Trucker laughs, and I feel his arm brush mine.

  When I pull my hands away from my eyes, he’s leaning in front of me.

  “Sorry about that, Officer.” He chuckles. “She’s actually not as bad as she sounded. Bartends for Lou on Marshall Street and got stuck driving a truck full home who were out celebrating.”

  “Celebrating?” the officer asks, finally moving the flashlight out of my face.

  “My birthday.” Trucker gives him a big smile, one I haven’t seen all night. Then he hands him the envelope containing the registration and insurance card. Next, he pulls his wallet out of his pocket and passes it to the police officer. “Twenty-one.”

  “Cohen,” the officer says as if he’s thinking out loud. “You related to SU’s starting quarterback?”

  “I’m him. Nickname’s Trucker.” He reaches out his hand, and the officer shakes it. “She left her purse at the bar. Our fault, not hers.”

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks me.

  I shake my head.

  “You have a truck full of kids in the back. It’s not safe or legal.”

  “She was just getting us back to South Campus,” Trucker tells him with a smile still on his face.

  “Says the truck belongs to Lucas Links.”

  “His dad.” Trucker nods toward the back seat.

  I look in the rearview mirror and see Links nod to the officer while the blonde is clearly unaffected by us being stopped, because she’s licking and kissing his neck.

  “Won’t happen again, Sir,” Links says.

  “Make sure it doesn’t,” he says, handing the envelope and Trucker’s license to me. “Make sure you drive below the speed limit and get this crew home safely. We need another good season. These boys are the first team we’ve had that’s given us something to brag about since Lucas Links played here.”

  “We’re in good hands, Officer.”

  I look over and catch Trucker winking at him.

  The officer chuckles. “Good night.” With that, he walks away.

  Chapter Five

  Inch by inch

  Trucker

  By the time we get to the house, I have memorized every damn inch of her face, trying to find something, anything that could give me a reason to feel so drawn to her.

  We sit and stare at each other while everyone piles out.

  “You coming, birthday boy? I’d love to blow out that candle.”

  Keeka looks disgusted, and I can’t help laughing.

  “I’m gonna wait for the Uber to pick Ray up,” I say without even looking to see which one of the girls offered up the blowjob.

  “I’ll wait inside for you, birthday boy.”

  We stare at each other for a few more moments, neither of us saying a word.

  She looks down. “I didn’t bring my bag, so, um … can you call a car?”

  No, I think. Instead, I say, “Yeah, of course.”

  I hit the Uber app and try to figure out how to get a car that will take the longest. None are far enough away.

  I look up at her. “Come inside for a while.”

  She looks at me, studying me like I have been her all damn night. “I’m not interested in blowing out your candle.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  She shakes her head then opens the door. “I don’t wanna come inside.”

  I jump out the passenger side and walk around the truck. “Ray, don’t lie to me. I know damn well you want to come in.”

  She looks up, crossing her arms. “I’m not a liar.”

  Fuck, I didn’t mean to offend her, but that’s bullshit, and I know it.

  “Play a game with me?”

  What the fuck am I? Twelve?

  She looks at me like I’m crazy, and I sure as hell can’t argue it. I’m kind of acting that way.

  Fuck it. Go big or go home. Keep on trucking. I’m losing my shit.

  “Truth or Tale?”

  “That’s not a game.” She sighs, rubbing her arms and looking away.

  “When you said you didn’t want to come in, was that the truth or a tale?”

  “Truth or Tale?” she counters. “You want me to have sex with you.”

  “Truth. You’re hot,” I say with a nod.

  Her eyebrow rise, and then she turns and begins to walk away.

  “Ray, what the fuck?” I laugh.

  “I’m not like those girls, Trucker. I’ll never be like one of those girls. And I’m not looking for a relationship either.”

  “Truth,” I say, walking behind her. “That’s what makes me want you.”

  She turns and looks at me. “Give it up. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Truth? I wasn’t gonna even try to fuck you tonight.”

  Her eyebrow quirks again.

  “Also, the truth, Ray; there’s something about you that makes me want to know you, and I don’t ever want to know any damn female for more than an hour.”

  “Truth or tale?” she says. “You have no respect for women.”

  Fuck.

  I run my hands through my hair. “The truth is: very few.”

  “Oh, geez, can I please come in your house then, Trucker?”

  “Respect is earned, Ray. And not that I should tell you this, but right now, you’re earning the hell out of my respect by telling me no.”

  She smiles a bit.

  “But the truth is I know damn well you want me as badly.”

  Her smile falls.

  “I’m not gonna try a fucking thing, Little Ray. Just want to get to know my new favorite bartender a little better.”

  I’m trying to figure you out.

  “Trucker, please call me that car, or I’m gonna walk.”

  I walk in front of her, turn and face her, to stop her from continuing. Her eyes widen, and I see a bit of fear in them. It pisses me off.

  “Jesus, Ray, there’s no reason to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Is that truth or tale?” I demand.

  “I’m not playing your game. Just let me go.”

  “Answer the question, and I’ll call the damn car.”

  She looks at me like I’m full of shit.

  “That’s truth.” I grab my phone, hit the app, and show her. “So, answer the question.”

  “What question?” She shakes her head now, looking down.

  “Truth or tale, Ray? You feel something, too.”

  “We all feel, Trucker. Even if we wish we didn’t.”

  Her words catch me off guard, and the sadness in her eyes knocks the wind out of me.

  I reach out and pull her against me into a hug. A fucking hug? “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “Trucker, you’re making me uncomfortable,” she whispers.

  “Was that truth or tale?”

  “I don’t like this game.” She steps back, and I let her.

  I hit the request for the c
ar and show her. “It’ll be here in ten minutes or less.” Then I turn to walk away.

  “So, you’re gonna leave me out here to wait by myself?” She tries to make her words sound like a joke, but I know she’s being serious.

  “You want me to wait with you, or are you going to think I’m trying to fuck you?”

  A small V forms between her eyes then disappears.

  When she rolls her eyes and looks away, I ask, “What?”

  She sighs and looks back at me. “You want to play this little game of truth or tales with me, yet you’re lying to me. You admit you have little respect for women, yet you expect me to take you for your word. You make no sense.”

  “You aren’t easy for me to make sense of.”

  I see the car turning down the road, and my heart beats harder. Ten minutes my fucking ass. I don’t want her to leave.

  When the car pulls up, the driver rolls down his window. “Cohen?”

  I nod and open the door for her. She hesitates a moment then looks at me with confusion in her eyes. I don’t like it.

  When she gets in, I see the way he looks at her, like he wants to fucker her just like I do. That pisses me off.

  “Move over. I’m riding with you.”

  “The trip was one way,” the driver says as I sit.

  “You can’t stay with me.” Keeka frowns at me.

  “He’ll bring me back,” I assure her.

  “I already have another pickup lined up,” the asshole says.

  “Then I’ll line up another driver,” I snap at him as I shut the door.

  “It’s not necessary,” she tell me.

  “Fuck it’s not.” I glare at the driver who is glaring back at me in the rearview mirror. “Let’s go.”

  Sitting in the car, she looks away from me and at my knee that’s bouncing up and down. When I stop it, she looks up at me and swallows hard.

  “What?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Jesus, Ray, what?” I nearly beg for her to tell me what her eyes won’t.

  “You’re mad at me,” she whispers.

  “I’m a little fucking upset, yes.” I tell her the damn truth.

  She looks out the window and away from me.